


Story Time with Bucky and Steve

by zilia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Endearments, Fluff, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Rimming, Rough Sex, Some angst, Warning for slut shaming in chapter 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7127477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilia/pseuds/zilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky finds out that Steve's relationships with most of the Avengers were not exactly platonic prior to his return.</p><p>Steve tells him the gory details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this fic was "Steve Rogers: Megaslut."
> 
> Thanks so much to withinmelove for the brilliant beta, and thanks to all the inhabitants of the Pinto Bar for their advice and feedback. Also thanks to my anonymous Historical American Language Consultant for responding to all of my ranty Whatsapp messages, because being British and writing old-timey Americans is hard, yo.
> 
> Also, this takes place in a kind of AU where everyone is living more-or-less happily together in Avengers Tower, so I guess it's an AU following Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

  1. **Prologue**



 

Bucky's been living in the tower for a few weeks when he begins to notice that something's a bit strange about Steve's teammates.

           

They might have always been like this; he doesn't claim to have been in his right mind the whole time, after all. The first few months, he was emerging from the fog of HYDRA, still relearning how to read people. He's grateful to all of them for accepting a formerly murderous brainwashed assassin into their midst without a hint of complaint. Maybe this is just how they are and he hadn't noticed before. But little by little, he realises that there are some things they do that are kind of...odd.

           

Every single one of them, in fact, seems to be going out of their way to be almost exaggeratedly welcoming and friendly. Big grins. Raised eyebrows. Hearty slaps on the back. Comments he doesn't understand. And even, coming from the unexpected quarter of _Bruce Banner_ of all people, a saucy wink. What the fuck is going on? He wracks his brains and comes up with nothing. There's nothing for it. He's going to have to ask Steve.

 

There's not really a good moment to say _Steve, your friends are fucking weird and it's freaking me out,_ so he just brings it up while they're curled up on the couch, Bucky's head in Steve's lap and Steve gently running his fingers through Bucky's hair. Bucky’s always loved that, and it’s the main reason why he won’t let anyone cut it now.

 

"Hey Steve?" he says, pushing his head into the touch. Damn it, Steve's so good at this.

 

"Yeah, Buck?"

 

"Um...there's no real good way to say this, but...have you noticed that your friends are being a bit strange?"

 

The fingers still on his scalp. "Strange?" Steve asks, "Strange how?" His expression darkens. "If they're giving you a hard time, then..."

 

"No. No no no, definitely not like that." The last thing he wanted to do was activate Protective Steve Mode. He wiggles his head to encourage Steve to continue, which he does, after a moment, and thinks about how best to phrase it.

 

"They're just being really friendly. Making weird faces at me, saying stuff. Like there's some joke I'm not in on? I don't get it."

 

"Hmm." Steve's brow wrinkles in a frown. It looks even more adorable than usual from Bucky's position in Steve's lap. "Have they been like this from the beginning?"

 

Bucky gives a frustrated huff. "I don't know. I mean, I wasn’t really aware of _anything_ , at first." They both pause for a moment, despite not wanting to dwell too much on those uncomfortable memories. "I guess I really started noticing it after the first movie night we all had. You know, where we...where they found out about. Um. Us."

_That_ was a memory Bucky was going to treasure, because it had been the first time he had been able to just _be_ with Steve around other people and not have to hide it. Steve had commandeered the central couch, pulled Bucky securely into his arms, and given everyone else in the room a _wanna make something of it?_ kind of expression. Nobody had challenged him. Then he had snuggled close to Bucky all night, and Bucky had luxuriated in the warmth and security of Steve's hold. And he couldn't dwell too much on _that_ , because thinking about Steve's body was going to distract him, and he needed to get to the bottom of this.

 

"Oh. _Oh,_ " Steve says, as though suddenly struck by an idea, and he sits up, dislodging Bucky from his lap so suddenly that he nearly falls off the couch. Bucky yelps and puts a hand out just in time.

 

"Hey, what's up?" he asks, clambering back onto the couch and attempting to take up his former position, but Steve is blushing bright red and looking very uncomfortable, so Bucky decides to keep his distance. After a moment, Steve looks up.

 

"Ok, so, don't get mad..."

 

This is something that Bucky's heard so often in his ninety-odd years of knowing Steve that it doesn't make him feel anything except fond exasperation. It used to be stuff like _don't get mad, but I got into a fight and I think my nose might be broken,_ and then stuff like _don't get mad, but I jumped out of a plane without a parachute,_ and then he _would_ get mad, but now, it was more a kind of resignation. It helps that he's crazy about Steve and always has been. Anyway, Steve's big enough to look after himself these days.

 

"'Don't get mad,' what?"

 

"I think I know why." Bucky looks at him expectantly, and then impatiently when Steve stalls.

 

"Come on, Rogers, it can't be that bad, right?"

 

Steve answers in a mumble that is almost inaudible.

 

"You're gonna need to speak up, pal," Bucky says, and Steve, flushing, says "I think it might be because I've slept with all of them."

 

\---

 

Bucky blinks. He's not sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.

 

"You slept with them? All of them?"

 

"Almost all of them. Nat's not into sex. And Sam didn’t live here before."

 

"Not really the point, Steve."

 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's just...you know, I was so lonely, and it didn't _mean_ anything, well, nothing serious, but it was kind of nice...and not since you've been back, I love you, you know I always have, but you weren't here, and..." Steve looks so miserable that Bucky scoots over to him and hugs him.

 

"Hey, hey, it's ok." He holds Steve's flaming face close to his shoulder, "I'm not mad."

 

"You're not?" Steve lifts his head, and Bucky kisses him gently.

 

"No, of course not. Steve, as far as you were concerned, I was _dead._ I didn't expect you to hang around on the off-chance that your best guy was gonna come back after seventy years. I'm glad there were people taking care of you. Besides," he grins, teasingly, "You weren't exactly keeping it in your pants before we got together."

 

This is true, and a renewed flush bathes Steve's cheeks. Back in Brooklyn, Steve had been a regular fixture in the queer bars and bathhouses, until Bucky had finally realised exactly what his feelings for Steve had meant, and then Steve had stopped fooling around and given Bucky his undivided attention. And Steve's undivided attention, Bucky had quickly learned, was exhausting and fulfilling in the _best_ way. He'd been tiny and sickly, but totally insatiable, just as he is now, only with the added bonus of his body finally being able to keep up with the rest of him.

 

"So you're not jealous?" Steve pushes.

 

"No. I would be _now,_ if you were still doing it _._ But you're not."

 

"Of course not," Steve says, "I'm all yours," and Bucky kisses him again.

 

"And you're all mine," he murmurs against Steve's lips, reaching up to hold his head and turning the kiss hot and possessive.

 

" _Yes_ ," Steve sighs, lying back and letting Bucky on top of him, "Wanna show me?"

 

So Bucky does. Twice.

 


	2. Bruce

Of course, Bucky doesn't mind about what Steve got up to with his teammates while he was gone. He was lonely, he had needs, and Bucky's genuinely glad that Steve had people there to make him feel good. _Really._

 

However, he'd be lying to himself if he said that he hasn't been a little preoccupied since Steve's revelation.

 

Since he told Bucky the truth, Steve's been extra attentive to him. It's not like he ever _ignored_ him, but now, they seem to be spending even more time than usual in bed. Or, you know, on the floor, or in the shower, or on the couch. Or the balcony. Or, on one memorable occasion, under the table in the SHIELD briefing room. But every time, Bucky's thoughts have strayed to what it would have looked like to see Steve with all those other guys, and it's been extremely distracting. And hot. Very, very hot.

 

They're lying in bed and Steve is lavishing attention on Bucky's chest, sucking little bruises all around his nipples, when Bucky, unable to stop himself, pants, "Tell me what it was like?"

 

Steve releases his right nipple with a decidedly un-sexy slurping noise, totally killing the moment.

 

"What?"

 

"Tell me what it was like. With the others."

 

Steve looks uncertain. "Why do you wanna know?"

 

"Because. It'll be hot."

 

Steve grins. "You kinky son of a bitch!"

 

Bucky shrugs. "Never said I was perfect." Steve's still grinning, so Bucky gives him a gentle shove.

 

"Well, go on Rogers. Put that mouth to work."

 

"Who first?"

 

_That_ is a good question. Bucky thinks about it for a second, and then remembers that out of all of them, it was Bruce's behaviour that had surprised him the most.

 

"Tell me about Dr Banner."

 

Steve pauses, and then ducks his head, blushing, still saying nothing.

 

"Go on," Bucky insists, "Tell me all about it." He thinks for a minute. "Oh my God, did you do it while he was the Hulk?"

 

" _Bucky!_ " Steve sputters, scandalised.

 

"What, you didn't see that big green cock and think 'yeah, gotta get me some of that...'?"

 

"You are the _worst_ ," Steve mutters. " _No,_ not while he was the Hulk."

 

"Well? What happened?" His hands creep down to Steve's ass as he talks, massaging, squeezing gently, rubbing two fingers teasingly down Steve's crack.

 

"OK, so. You know what Bruce is like. Kind of quiet. Shy."

 

"Sounds like just your type," Bucky says, nipping Steve's earlobe. Like Steve has a type. Steve's preferences evidently only go so far as _alive_ and _willing._

 

"Well, he's lonely. He had a girl. Betty. But her dad screwed stuff up between them. He had to leave her. And he was sad."

 

"So you decided to make him feel better?" Bucky's still teasing Steve, his fingers now stroking over Steve's asshole.

 

"It was late. I couldn't sleep. I went to get a cup of coffee, and he was in the kitchen. We got talking. He told me about Betty, and I told him about you. It wasn't long after I came back. He was the first person I told."

 

Bucky's heart momentarily aches for sad, lonely Steve and Bruce. There are times, more frequent than he'd admit even to himself, when he thinks everything that's happened to him was worth it because it means Steve doesn't have to be alone any more. Then he imagines Steve and Bruce together, the contrast they'd make, and his cock jumps. He reaches for the lube and snaps it open, drizzling it on his fingers.

 

"We were both, um, crying a bit. So I hugged him. Just to make him feel better. But it was a long hug, and then he kind of lifted up his face and kissed me. Oh God, Buck, he's a great kisser. Not as good as you, of course. But still so good. Real _sensual,_ you know? Oh. _Bucky._ " Steve breaks off as Bucky slips a finger inside him, and Bucky nibbles at his ear again.

 

"Yeah, you like that?" Bucky murmurs, stroking inside Steve and feeling him shudder in his arms. He adds a second finger and starts to stretch him.

 

"Yes... _yeah_ , that's good. So, um. We kissed. A lot. Had to be slow. Didn't wanna rile him up."

 

"Yeah, otherwise HULK SQUISH PUNY STEVE," Bucky said, and Steve headbutts him.

 

"Not funny, Buck."

 

"Sorry."

 

"And then...oh, I just wanted to do something nice for him."

 

"Sure you did," Bucky snorts, his fingers working inside Steve all the time, his hips grinding up and pressing their cocks together.

 

"So I stopped kissing him, unzipped his pants, and gave him a suck job."

 

Now _that_ gets Bucky's attention. The thought of Steve's bright blond head between Banner's legs, Banner's hands maybe twisted in Steve's hair, holding him still so that he can fuck his face. Steve can suck cock like a champion, Bucky knows this firsthand. It always feels good, but Bucky thinks about watching his fella giving head to someone else, and that's _it,_ he needs to have Steve _now._

 

He tilts his hips and guides Steve so that he can sink down onto Bucky's cock, and Steve drags it out, slow, smooth, so that Bucky can feel every inch of himself sliding inside Steve’s body. They're quiet for a moment as Steve rolls his hips gently, and Bucky arches up to meet him, but they both groan once Bucky's fully buried inside Steve.

"So good, so good, baby," Bucky praises him, and Steve glows, leaning back on Bucky's cock, "So sweet for me. Tell me what you did for Banner after you sucked him."

 

"I – _oh, Buck_ – I sucked him and he went off in my mouth, so I swallowed it, and...and..."

 

"And?" Bucky thinks he knows where this is going, but he needs to prompt Steve anyway, so he cants his hips up, chasing Steve's sweet spot, just to tease him.

 

"Mmmm, mmngh, _and then I let him fuck me_ , Buck," Steve grits out, which is how Bucky knows he's found it. Steve takes a couple of deep breaths, and then sighs. "He was real gentle."

 

"Yeah? Gentle?" Bucky rocks Steve tenderly on top of him, moving slow and steady, nowhere near as deep or as hard as Steve obviously wants, and Steve gives a long, shaky exhale.

 

" _More_ , Bucky," he pants, and Bucky shakes his head.

 

"Nuh-uh. Not until you tell me more."

 

" _Yes_ , gentle," Steve whines. "He went s-slow, got me open with his f-fingers and some oil, and – he's not big, Buck." He giggles suddenly. "I bet he's a _lot_ bigger when he's. Y'know. The other guy."

 

"I'll just bet he is, doll," Bucky says fondly, pressing a kiss to Steve's flushed, sweaty face. He _knows_ Steve's pretty far gone if he's like this, so he doesn't want to prolong it, but he wants to know how it ended. "How'd he do it, huh? You wanna tell me that? Then maybe I'll let you come."

 

Steve huffs and wriggles his hips. He c _an_ come just from Bucky's dick inside him – hell, Steve's so sensitive that he can practically come from a stiff breeze on his tits, on the right day – but it's easier when Bucky jerks him off, and besides, he wouldn't dream of coming unless Bucky told him he could, when they're like this. He gives Bucky a frustrated look, and Bucky sticks his tongue out at him.

 

"C'mon, Stevie."

 

"He sat me on the kitchen table, said it was the right height for him to stand up but not take my weight, and he pushed inside me, got real deep... It was the first time in a long time for both of us, it didn't last, but it was so nice, to be so close to someone again, good to feel good, share it with someone else, _ahhhhh,_ Bucky, m'gonna, _m'gonna_..."

 

Bucky pictures it, thinking again of the contrast between Steve and Bruce, Steve's broad back and long legs wrapped around Bruce's short, slight frame, both of them such kind people, being sweet to each other, and he feels his dick pulse. 

 

" _God,_ Steve, yes," he groans, and reaches up to squeeze Steve's cock. Steve comes almost immediately, all over Bucky's fingers, and they collapse into an exhausted, sweaty heap together on the bed.

 

\---

 

"He didn't want to open his eyes though," Steve says afterwards, apropos of nothing, after Bucky's cleaned them both up and they're cuddling close, Bucky's head resting on Steve's chest, and Steve's hand idly stroking Bucky's hair.

 

"That's a damn shame, baby," Bucky murmurs. "Pretty thing like you, why didn't he want to watch?"

 

"Said it would be...would be too much."

 

That makes sense, actually. Bucky's heart gives a sharp twist at how _sad_ that is, and covers it up by saying, "Well, you _are_ kind of a lot to take in, sweetheart,"

 

"He was crying again though, I could see. And hear. I think I cried a bit too. I was...I was thinking of you. And I don't think he was thinking of me." Steve's voice has gone misty, and Bucky looks up to see his eyes are wet.

 

"Oh no, honey, don't cry." He shuffles up the bed and puts an arm around Steve. "It's ok, you got me, you don't have to be alone anymore."

 

"It's not that," Steve says, with a dramatic sniff. "It's just that...now that you _are_ back, I'm never going to have a chance to find out what the Hulk's dick is like."

 

Bucky punches him on the arm.


	3. Clint

It's difficult for Steve to talk, because Bucky's tongue is in his ass.

 

Steve loves getting rimmed, and really, his ass was made for it, so Bucky feels like it's a glorious, perfect alignment of the heavens that he loves eating Steve out. Part of the game is the preparation, Bucky telling Steve to shower carefully, sometimes even helping him by soaping up that hungry little hole and getting it perfect and clean before diving in with his tongue. Tonight, he whispered to Steve to go take a shower while they were making out on the couch, and Steve leapt up to obey. So well-trained, God, Bucky loves him. And now Steve is face-down on the bed, legs spread, Bucky holding his hips firmly to stop him from squirming away.

 

"Tell me what he was like," Bucky says, before licking right from Steve's balls to his crack and feeling his hole quiver under the warm, wet touch. Steve gives a high-pitched whine and tries to wriggle, but Bucky's got him held tight. There will probably be bruises on Steve's ridiculously tiny hips, if only for a few hours. He squeezes a little tighter when Steve doesn't say anything.

 

"Come on, Stevie. You gotta keep talking. You stop talking, I stop this." And to drive the point home he gives Steve another lick, getting him nice and wet. Steve moans, long and low.

 

"Ok, ok...oh, Buck...he was fun. You know how he loves movies? Said it was a shame I'd missed so much stuff, so he was trying to help me catch up, and there were times when it was just the two of us for movie night, so we were watching Star Wars – you have to see Star Wars, Buck, but not the prequels, they're a waste of time – and we were on the couch and he just started stroking my leg and then he kinda stretched his arm out and put it around me and so we were cuddling and then he scooched closer and kissed me."

 

Bucky is enjoying himself where he is, but he's made a serious tactical error in occupying his mouth, because he wants to tease Steve something awful about being won over by the same tactics that Bucky himself was using in the back row of darkened movie theatres all over New York about seven decades ago. Things have changed a lot, sure, but guys everywhere are still the same, apparently. Steve pauses for a moment to enjoy the sensation of Bucky sucking at him, and so of course Bucky stops. Steve makes a frustrated sound, but Bucky can be as stubborn as Steve when he wants to be, so he waits while Steve gathers his thoughts.

 

"We made out for a bit. I think I kinda lost track of the movie. And he was real handsy," and Bucky grins to himself, because of course Steve manages to sound prim about it, like he didn't love every second of it. "Hands all over me, grabbing my...my...my chest, pinching my ass." Bucky can't see, but he knows Steve is blushing at having said the word "chest", because for all that he'll bend over for anyone who asks, he's shy as anything when it comes to dirty talk, and Bucky adores it. To reward him, Bucky slips two fingers into his loosened hole and licks around them, and Steve shudders, then rushes on with the story so that Bucky won't stop.

 

"He got my shirt off, started kissing me everywhere, took his off – his arms, Buck, wow – and then he got my jeans off, said he wanted to look at me, get me naked..."

 

Bucky takes a quick break and asks, "And? Did he like it?"

 

"Well, he did say 'God bless America' when he caught sight of my dick," Steve gasps, and Bucky has to hold himself back from snorting with laughter, because that's exactly the classy kind of behaviour he's come to expect from Clint (even though Steve's dick is beautiful and so clearly Clint has good taste), and then he points his tongue and licks into Steve and spreads his fingers, and Steve's shuddering and coming hard. Bucky rolls him over out of the wet spot and they curl up on the bed, Bucky holding Steve loosely while his breathing returns to normal, nuzzling his face into Steve's hair.

 

"You wanna go again?" Steve asks him, after a moment.

 

"Some of us haven't been once, Rogers," Bucky reminds him.

 

"Well? You wanna?"

 

Bucky gives a long, languid stretch, letting Steve feel how hard he is as a result of the story.

 

"Get me a drink of water and I could be persuaded," he says, and Steve jumps up, taking Bucky's hand and leading him into the kitchen, apparently not wanting to be apart from him for the thirty seconds it would have taken them to get to the fridge.

 

"So did you do it again?" Bucky asks him, twisting the cap off the bottle Steve hands him. It's deliciously cool against his hot skin. God bless the future.

 

"We did, a few times. Mostly just handjobs and blowjobs, though we did fuck a few times. On movie nights, after everyone else had gone to bed, mostly."

 

Bucky drops his bottle of water, which bounces across the kitchen floor and spills everywhere.

 

"Wait. Movie nights. On the couch? The big couch, in the middle of the room?"

 

"Yeah. It's very comfortable.” Steve gives Bucky a questioning look, and when he doesn’t answer, says, “Bucky? You ok?"

 

"We've cuddled on that couch. That's our couch."

 

"Well, technically, it's mine and Clint's couch, if you're gonna be like that," Steve says, with a smirk, the bastard, and that's it. Bucky sidesteps the puddle on the floor and grabs Steve's hand, dragging him towards the door.

 

"Where are we going?" Steve asks, like he doesn't fucking know.

 

"Get in that elevator, Rogers," he says, giving him a little push, "We're going upstairs to reclaim our couch."


	4. Natasha

"So Nat doesn't like sex?"

 

"Nah. We did cuddle when it was cold once on a mission, but that was it. I'm not gonna force myself on someone, what do you take me for?"

 

"And it's not like you had to work to get it from anyone else."

 

"Anyway, just because she's the only girl on the team doesn't mean she needs to get with one of us. How lame would that be?"

 

Bucky nods. "True."


	5. Thor

Whenever Bucky sees Steve standing next to Thor, it messes with his worldview a little, because Thor is one of the few people who can make Steve look small and delicate. So he can't help imagining what it must have been like to see them together. He pictures Thor's massive hands on Steve's slim hips, his golden skin making Steve's look like silver by comparison, and of course, the kind of dick that could make even a serum-enhanced cock look modest.

 

"Was he big?" he asks, as he licks and nuzzles at Steve's neck, just the way Steve likes it.

 

" _Yeah_ ," Steve breathes. "He was so big, Buck. He...well, you've met him. You know. He's just big _everywhere._ "

 

He sounds so dreamy that Bucky can't stop himself from laughing fondly. He wants to be sweet to Steve today. Gentle kisses, soft touches, long, slow, drawn-out play in the ray of sunlight that streams onto their living room floor in the middle of the day, where they're basking naked like a couple of lazy kittens on a softest, plushest rug Bucky's ever had the pleasure of lying on. They're not doing much more than making out, facing each other, one of Steve's legs draped over Bucky's waist as they rock gently together like they used to when they were young and when all the scars were on Steve's body instead of Bucky's.

 

"Yeah?" Bucky murmurs against Steve's lips, voice soft, "What was he like, baby? Was he good to you? Treat you nice? Am I gonna have to punch him for not takin' care of my best guy?"

 

"Nah," Steve says, with a dopey grin, "He was nice. Was a real gentleman. Not like _you,_ " he teases, reaching down to pinch Bucky's ass.

 

Bucky mock-gasps. "Rogers, I have _always_ been a gentleman to you."

 

"Yeah, but Thor's _royalty_ , Buck. He's a prince. Maybe a king. Not actually sure. Maybe both," Steve informs him airily. "Can't compare to some punk from Brooklyn."

 

"What'd he make of you, then?" Bucky shoots back, "Guess he'd be slumming a bit with a guy like you."

 

Steve giggles. "He was _very_ nice."

 

"Tell me," Bucky says, pushing his hips forward and feeling Steve give a little shudder back. "Please tell me it happened after some kind of manly sparring match?"

 

Steve doesn't reply immediately, but Bucky can _feel_ the heat of his flushed face, and he'd clap his hands in delight if it didn't mean he'd have to let go of Steve.

 

"Oh my God. It _did_. It totally did. All my dreams have come true. At once."

 

"Shut _up_ ," Steve groans, still flushing furiously and burying his face into Bucky's shoulder.

 

"You are _so_ predictable," Bucky crows. "Let me guess, your eyes met across a crowded gymnasium, you beat the shit out of each other, and then you rolled over and offered him your ass?"

 

"Actually..." Steve starts, but he can't keep it up, he's laughing too much. "Yeah, that is pretty much exactly what happened. I'd like to say I was playing it cool, but it would be a lie."  And Steve can't lie for shit. He blushes and tics and gives himself away within about 2 seconds.

 

"So what happened?"

 

"We sparred – I think he was going easy on me, Buck, there's no way I could beat him normally – and then he said something like, 'Friend Rogers, you are indeed a worthy opponent,' or something like that – _shut up,_ Bucky, you know I can't talk like him – and then something, something, 'On my world, there is a way we warriors celebrate victory,' oh, I don't know, he was kinda hard against my leg and I wasn't really listening, too busy watching his mouth."

 

"That was underwhelming," Bucky complains.

 

"Well, what would _you_ have done? No, wait, I know. You would have said all kinds of sweet stuff to him that he wouldn't've understood, and it would have killed the mood when you had to explain to him what you meant..."

 

"'Friend Barnes, I am neither a baby nor a doll,'" Bucky intones, in a fairly accurate imitation of Thor at his most confused, and Steve snickers.

 

"Yeah, yeah, like that. Hey, weren't you supposed to be fucking me? Get with the program, old man."

 

"Hey, could an old man do _this_?" Bucky rolls over and pins Steve to the rug, pushing down on top of him so that Steve can feel how hard he is.

 

"I don't know, Thor's pretty old..."

 

Bucky smacks Steve's thigh to shut him up and grinds against him again.

 

"You're not telling this story very well."

 

"I'm kinda distracted, Buck."

 

"Get _un_ distracted _._ "

 

Steve huffs. "OK, so we lay down on the mat, and _he had lube_ , Bucky, like he'd planned it, but he didn't wanna do it until I said it was ok."

 

"Bet you did more than say it was ok," Bucky mutters darkly. "Bet he had to peel you off by the ears."

 

Steve laughs. "My answer _was_ pretty plain."

 

"As in?"

 

"As in, I kissed him and I put his hands down my pants."

 

"You let anybody do that?" Bucky asks softly, fiddling with Steve's hair and nuzzling him, brushing soft kisses over his lips.

 

"Only people I _really_ like," Steve assures him, letting one of the kisses get deeper and opening his mouth to Bucky's tongue. "Mmm, _Bucky..._ So he got out the lube and he, y'know, got me wet, got me ready. Real rough. His fingers are real big, even bigger than your metal ones, Buck...."

 

Bucky gropes over to the table a few feet away from them, where there's a drawer with lube in it, because they live in a big apartment these days, and this is _Steve_ , and so it's a good idea to have some in every room. Steve's still running his mouth, and Bucky's actually kind of impressed at how his dirty talk has developed over the course of these stories. When he finds the lube, he flips it open and squeezes some into his palm. Steve's dick jumps against Bucky's at the sound of the cap snapping open. Bucky gets his fingers slick; not the metal ones, despite what Steve said, because he wants to keep this sweet. Instead, he strokes Steve open with his flesh and blood fingers, petting him while Steve keeps talking.

 

"He lifted me up and put me on top of him, so I was sitting right on his dick, and he held me so tight, think I might have bruised, and he fucked me like that, felt like it took hours, and when he came, _Bucky_ , it was so much, and then he flipped me over while he was still inside me, he was hard again straight away, because he's, like, a _god_ , so he could just keep going and going..."

 

_A god._ Christ, the company Steve keeps these days. Fair enough when he was the best Steve could get. But now? He could have anyone; _has_ had most of them. And he keeps coming back to some screwed-up ghost of a guy from his past with a penchant for freaking out if someone makes an unexpected movement in his presence?

 

"Bucky?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?" Steve noses at him gently, bringing him back to the present with a jolt.

 

"No, sorry." Bucky gives himself a mental shake, keeps up his stroking around Steve's hole and licks up his neck, which makes Steve give a pleased shudder. "Keep going, sweet thing."

 

"Can you...would you...inside me, _please_?"

 

"Yeah, sweetheart, I'll get you there," Bucky promises, pausing to give Steve's dick a brief squeeze before spreading his legs and sinking slowly into him.

 

" _Unhhhhh_ ," Steve whimpers, and Bucky holds him tight, gentling him through the stretch. They stay there, perfectly still, as Steve's panting breaths slow down as he gets used to the feeling of Bucky inside him, like they would do several lifetimes ago when Steve was little and vulnerable and needed time to catch his breath when they made love. His eyes are screwed shut, his forehead creased, and his mouth hanging pink and wet and open. Then Steve makes a tiny movement, just a little roll of his hips, and Bucky takes that as a sign that he's ready, so he encourages him in a slow, steady rhythm. Steve wraps himself around Bucky, his legs up around Bucky's hips and his arms around Bucky's neck, and they move languidly, tenderly, facing each other and joined from brows to chests to hips. Steve's cock is hard and sticky between them, and the friction is not quite as good as the touch of a hand, but it's close enough that Steve can definitely come from this if they keep it up.

 

"You wanna keep telling me, sweetheart?" Bucky asks him. Despite the gentle pace, they're both sweating, the combination of the sunshine on their bodies and the sure, inexorable build of sensation in all the places where their skin touches making the room almost unbearable hot. Steve smells so sweet, like honey, and Bucky feels drunk on it.

 

"Just let me...let me.... _oh God,_ Bucky, I need to come, please let me come, _please._ "

 

"Don't need my permission to come, sugar. Did Thor make you ask?"

 

"He made me come so many times," Steve gasps, "I...I lost count, I lost time...when I came round he was there, still fucking me, and _it was so good,_ Bucky..."

 

"I make you come the way he did?" Bucky demands, reaching up to grab a handful of Steve's hair, a little pain to temper all the pleasure he's pouring into Steve's body, and Steve whines and tips his head back, so Bucky can bite his neck and suck on his pulse point.

 

"Better, Buck, so much better," Steve wails, and Bucky can feel the vibrations of his voice under his tongue, against his teeth.

 

"I gotta hold myself back, darlin’, because right now I wanna make you forget about him, wanna pull out and get you on your front, grind those pretty flushed tits into the rug, remind you who you belong to, because you're _mine,_ Stevie, you're all mine," Bucky growls in his ear, and the words are enough, Steve shatters apart in his arms and whimpers "yours, Bucky," and Bucky buries his face in Steve's sweaty hair while the clutch of Steve's body around him draws him blindingly over the edge.

 

\---

 

Bucky groans when he realises he has a crick in his neck. He's heard Sam's speech about returning soldiers feeling uncomfortable with how soft beds are these days, and it's _complete bullshit._ Even though this rug is probably worth more than their old apartment was back in the thirties, it is _not_ an acceptable substitute for a mattress.

 

"Why did we decide to fuck on the floor?" he asks Steve, grimacing when he realises that their skin is tacky with sweat and come. Ugh.

 

"Floor was closer than the bed." Steve seems blissfully unconcerned with how disgusting they are, and kisses Bucky's face enthusiastically, first all over his cheeks and forehead and finishing up with a kiss to the tip of his nose. _Fucking dork_.

 

"So how'd you finish things up in the gym?”

 

"Honestly, it was just like another workout. Felt good after, kind of tired, kind of sore, but the good kind."

 

"Did you fool around in the showers after too?"

 

Steve's blush is all the answer Bucky needs for that.

 

"I think that's how warriors behave in Asgard," he says. "Like something you do when you like a guy. Shows he’s your friend, shows him appreciate him.”

 

_What’s wrong with just buying him a beer?_ Bucky thinks. _That’s what I’d do._ But then again, sex has always meant something different to Bucky, and he supposes fucking people because it feels good and you like them’s not so different to what Steve’s been up to in his absence, so he can kind of get it. Then a thought strikes him. “So does Thor fuck everyone, then?”

 

Steve shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe, if they want to. I didn’t ask him.” He cocks his head to the side, thinking. "Where did you go, earlier?"

 

Bucky considers not answering that, but he knows that all it will get him is Steve's Captain America Is Disappointed In You, Son, face, and while it's awesome to see Steve unleash that on other people, generally he does everything he can to avoid getting it aimed at him.

 

"You could have anyone," Bucky mutters, embarrassed at his own embarrassment. " _Anyone_ would want you. Hell, pretty much this whole tower full of people wants you. Especially those ones who've had a taste."

 

"So did half the queers in Brooklyn," Steve reminds him, "And I still picked your ugly mug."

 

"But that was then, and..." Bucky sighs in frustration. "He's a king," he blurts. "He's a fucking king."

 

"So now I know what it's like to get fucked by a king," Steve says, "And it was nice an' all, but you're still the best I've ever had, Buck. I wasn't serious before, y'know? As long as you want me, nobody else'll ever matter."

 

"Quality not quantity, huh?" Bucky says, with a good approximation of the cocky swagger of Bucky Barnes circa 1940.

 

"Absolutely." The way Steve says that, like nobody could ever argue with him, like Bucky _isn’t_ some kind of…

 

"Hey Buck?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Wanna go fool around in the showers?"

 

Bucky can’t help himself; he laughs, and it shakes loose some of the bad thoughts that have been creeping up on his brain. “Sure, doll,” he says, holding out a hand so that Steve can help him up, “Lead the way.”


	6. Fury

"Oh, tell me you _didn't._ "

 

Steve snorts. "Hell no. I'm reckless, but I don't have a death wish." Steve raises an eyebrow. "Or do I?"

 

" _Rogers._ You're messing with me. There's no way you fucked Nick Fury."

 

"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't."

 

Bucky shudders. His balls feel like they might be shrivelling just at the _thought_. Some things are best left undiscussed.


	7. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some slut-shaming in this chapter.

There's only one person left, and Bucky feels kind of excited and apprehensive about it. Because they knew Howard, and he knows how Steve and Tony interact; they rub each other up the wrong way all the time, and they're both so stubborn, and he can imagine that this would translate into absolutely blisteringly hot sex, probably of the filthy nasty variety that he and Steve don't get to have that often. Steve doesn't volunteer the story on his own, and Bucky doesn't want to push him, but one day, when he’s got Steve up against their front door, he gets carried away.

 

"Tell me about Stark," he growls as he fastens his teeth into the sensitive skin of Steve’s neck. "I want to know what it was like."

 

Steve's reluctant, Bucky can tell, but he wants to know. He _has_ to know. He saw the way Howard used to look at Steve during the war when he thought Bucky wasn't looking, and he had been _pissed,_ because Howard, with all his money, all of his gadgets, all of his fancy clothes, had had everything Bucky had never been able to give Steve and had always wanted to. He'd had to stop himself from growling every time Howard had touched Steve, which he had done often, with the kind of proprietorial insouciance that came with having enough money to buy whatever you wanted.

 

 He's seen a similar expression in Tony's eyes from time to time, although it's never, to his knowledge, been focused on Steve. In his darkest, lowest, most awful moments, he tries to convince himself that the manner of Howard's death was all down to the Winter Soldier and not influenced by his own feelings, but he isn't always successful about it. The shame of it and the memory of that fierce possessiveness threaten to choke him, and he bites them back, instead hissing into Steve's shoulder, "Tell me how he fucked you."

 

"I'm not sure, Buck...you and Tony don't always get along..."

 

" _Tell me_ ," Bucky insists, and sucks a deep purple bruise into the hollow of Steve's collarbone. Steve yelps, surprised at the sting, and he blurts out, almost against his will, "He fucked me in his workshop."

 

"How did he do it?"

 

"He was rough. Grabbed my hair, dragged my mouth down, kissed me."

 

Bucky kisses him, determined to erase the memory of Stark's kiss from Steve's mind. It's more of a bite, a savage snarl at Steve's lips, forcing his tongue into the space and swallowing Steve's pained whine. He grabs Steve's ass and squeezes, his nails digging in brutally as he pulls Steve into him. They're both rock-hard, and Steve whimpers at the pressure from Bucky's fingers.

 

"What did he do then?" Bucky shoves Steve's boxers down and grabs his cock, giving it a couple of rough pulls, when Steve whimpers again.

 

"Bucky. Bucky, _stop._ You're hurting me."

 

Bucky pushes him, hard, and he hits the door, head cracking against the wood. "You like it when it hurts, though, right baby? Bet you liked that when Stark did it, huh? Didn't mind him slapping you around, taking your pretty ass... _God,_ you're such a slut, Stevie, my little slut, even though you whore it up for everyone..."

 

"No, Bucky. _Stop._ "

 

He’s so caught up in his own head that it takes Bucky a moment to work out that Steve's not kidding, not playing. As soon as he does, though, he pulls back immediately, letting go of Steve.

 

"I'm sorry," he says, feeling like a complete dick. "I'm sorry, Steve."

 

"This isn't fun anymore," Steve says, in a little voice. "It was, before, when it was just stories, when you said it was ok. But I think you're jealous now. You hardly leave the apartment, these days. You can’t even face the others. "

 

He’s right, that’s the thing, but what Bucky hates most is seeing Steve looking so _tiny_ again, cowering against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. Never mind that he's built like a tank these days, in this moment he looks really small and scared. Bucky used to hate the guys who made Steve look like that, and a cold stab of shame sticks in his throat to think that he's done it himself.

 

"I'm sorry," he says, sobering. "I thought I was ok with it, but…but I'm not. I _did_ like it, in the beginning, but now…I don’t know, Steve.” _This is it. This is what happens when I ruin everything,_ he thinks, and he realises, as he thinks it, that it’s always been _when_ and not _if_ in his mind. He's _never_ made Steve look like this, as far as he can remember. He feels numb, freezing, disgusted with himself, and Steve suddenly seems very far away, as though behind some kind of invisible wall, like he'll never be able to reach him no matter how close he gets.

 

“I’m gonna…” Steve says, trailing off, gesturing towards his room, and when he doesn’t move Bucky sees that he’s waiting for him to move out of the way, that he doesn’t want to risk touching him on his way past. He flattens himself against the wall, and Steve walks away, not looking back, into his room and closes the door behind him.


	8. Bucky

Bucky doesn't leave his room for three days.

 

It’s weird even thinking about it as _his_ room, because although it contains most of his clothes, and the few personal items he owns, the bed they’ve always shared is the one in Steve’s room. He had spent the first few nights after his return in here, but the memories of that time are hazy, and the nightmares and the horrible pit of loneliness and despair that had pretty much taken up permanent residence in his chest had driven him into Steve’s room and his bed and his arms as soon as he was himself enough to realise that that was the best way to make them go away.

 

And now he had to leave again. His bag is packed and ready at the foot of his bed, and he's going to leave, he _is,_ it's just…leaving Steve is hard, even knowing that this is best for everyone. His skin is constantly crawling with guilt for what he said to Steve, that Steve asked him to stop and he didn't, that he'd let things go this far. It makes him itch, like he should scrape himself away into nothingness so that Steve doesn't have to look at him anymore.

 

He's heard Steve moving around the apartment, and he's stopped outside his door a couple of times, but he hasn't done anything else. Every time he hears Steve's footsteps approaching, he freezes, willing him to go away, but withering inside when he does. He has to leave. He _has_ to. He can't hurt Steve again, but if he does, if he loses him after only just getting him back...

 

He can't bear it.

 

He _has_ to.

 

If he doesn’t do it now, he probably never will. Moving like a sleepwalker, he bends down, shoulders his bag, and walks towards the door of his room, each step taking a superhuman effort as he feels his treacherous heart holding him back, like it's anchoring him to Steve even when he doesn't deserve him. He shouldn’t worry. Steve will be ok. He’s in a tower full of people who want to sleep with him; he won’t miss Bucky. After what feels like a small eternity, he makes it to the door, opens it carefully, and steps outside.

 

And falls straight over Steve, who is evidently camping outside his door, in a nest of blankets, pillows, bottles of water, candy bar wrappers, and a sketchpad.

 

"The infamous grace of the Winter Soldier," Steve says in a deadpan voice, as Bucky takes a moment to work out how he ended up on the floor amongst the trash with a pencil digging into the side of his face. There's really nothing dignified he can do at this point. Steve is already on his feet, holding out a hand to Bucky to help him up, but Bucky can't take it, _won't_ , clenches his fists to keep from reaching out for Steve, and when he realises this, Steve flinches, pulling back a few paces, the grin falling from his face.

 

“Bucky, where are you going?”

 

“I have to leave.” Bucky stands up and tries to avoid looking at Steve, but he can’t help it, his eyes are drawn to him, and Steve looks completely bewildered.

 

“Leave? What? Why?”

 

“Because I _hurt_ you, Steve. I hurt you and now I have to leave before I hurt you again.”

 

Bucky is completely nonplussed when Steve starts _laughing_. Not his usual restrained, polite, 21 st-century laughter, but the horrendous snorting bray he used to make at Bucky’s worst jokes that would set off his asthma when he wasn’t careful. Even now he‘s laughing so hard he clutches his chest, and Bucky gapes at him, more confused than anything.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Steve wheezes, gasping for breath, “Just…your face. Do you remember…do you remember when we were kids, and…and…” He erupts into laughter again, then takes a long, deep breath and closes his eyes, evidently trying to centre himself.

 

“Ok,” he says, starting again. “So do you remember when we were kids, like, six or seven or something, and we were playing in your apartment? We were building a fort with the couch cushions, when your ma was out.”

 

This could be describing any number of days with Steve growing up, so Bucky waits for Steve to give him more information.

 

“We were roughhousing, I think, and you pushed me by accident, and I fell off the couch and bruised my arm. Not badly, but it hurt a bit.”

 

“Yeah, I think I remember…” Bucky says, and then he sees Steve’s smirk, and he knows that whatever’s coming next is going to be embarrassing for him, even if he can’t recall the exact details yet.

 

“So you remember what happened after? You were _inconsolable._ Went on and on about how you’d betrayed me and how you’d ruined our friendship and you could never trust yourself to be near me and you were no better than the bullies… You were yammering for ages and I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. You were so upset that you left the house! And it was _your house_ and there was nobody else home, so I had to stay to explain to your ma when she came back that you’d decided we couldn’t be friends anymore because you’d hurt me, and then she wanted to know what you’d done, and I showed her this tiny bruise…”

 

His ma had given him a wallop when he’d come home for bruising Steve, and another one for upsetting him, and a third for missing dinner, but it had been worth it when he’d gotten back to Steve waiting for him.

 

“And then you came back, after hours and hours, and you were crying, and _I_ was crying because I thought you didn’t want to be my friend and if I didn’t have you then I didn’t have anyone…and we made it up, but, oh, Buck. Your face just then. Looked just like that, when you left. Like the biggest martyr. St Sebastian didn’t have nothing on you.”

 

Steve’s smile is impossibly fond, and Bucky can finally bring himself to meet his gaze without wavering.

 

“I couldn’t stand the thought that I’d hurt you,” he says quietly. It had been the worst he’d ever felt up to that point in his young life; a feeling so overwhelming it had been almost too much to bear. He’d wandered the streets for hours in a daze of misery, seriously contemplating running away, until hunger and a ferocious summer thunderstorm had finally driven him back to his home.

 

“ _You_ decided you’d hurt me and that was it, you didn’t even care what I thought about it, didn’t even stick around to listen to me, you just had to leave. For one tiny bruise! You were always so much more upset about hurting me than I ever was at you for doing it.”

 

“I’ve got to take care of you,” Bucky whispers, “If I don’t, who will?”

 

“You _do_ take care of me,” Steve says. “Yeah, you were a jerk, and yeah, you hurt me, but you don’t have to leave just because you screwed up. It was bad enough when you left then. Imagine what it would do to me now. And your ma ain’t here to comfort me and give me cake.”

 

Bucky smiles weakly. “Sam would probably bake you some pie or something.”

 

“Sam’s baking is shit,” Steve says loyally, lying through his teeth because Sam makes _the best_ pie in New York; Bucky knows, he’s eaten more than his fair share. “And I don’t want pie, you big dumb jerk; I want _you._ Well, you and pie, preferably, but mostly you. You did a bad thing, but you didn’t mean to. That doesn’t make you a bad person,” and Bucky knows he’s not just talking about that childhood incident now, or even their fight in the corridor, and he takes a moment to thank his lucky stars, Jesus Christ and all the saints and whoever else has ever done anything to make Steve Rogers love him.

 

They’ve come closer during the course of this conversation, and when Steve is just two feet away from him, he takes a deep breath and says, "Hey Bucky? Tell me a story."

 

"What?"

 

"Take your backpack off and tell me a story. About us. I want to know what you remember."

 

"Steve, I remember everything. They couldn't take you away from me forever."

 

"So. Tell me about it."

 

Steve reaches out, holding his hands close to Bucky but not touching, letting him bridge the remaining distance. Bucky shrugs off his backpack and takes Steve's hands in his, not moving any closer, but taking a moment to feel the warmth and weight of Steve's grip, how grounding and comforting it is just to be able to touch his hands.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

" _Yes._ "

 

Bucky takes a moment to collect his thoughts. He's determined not to screw this up. Steve watches him patiently, his face calm, open, a little expectant, but not putting pressure on him.

 

"Ok, so, once there was this tiny little punk called Steve Rogers, who was as queer as three-dollar bill."

 

Steve snorts and smiles a little, but doesn't say anything, so Bucky continues. "He lived with his extremely handsome best friend in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn and he was dirt poor and got sick a lot."

 

"What happened then?"

 

"Well, one day his extremely handsome but also kind-of-dumb best friend noticed that tiny Steve was away a lot in the evenings. You know, when he wasn't so sick that he couldn't get out of bed. And he would be gone for a long time, and never tell his best friend where he had been. Until one day he asked him where he went."

 

"And what did tiny Steve say?" Steve is looking at Bucky with the most ridiculously smug grin on his face, because he _knows_ what happened then, and he's going to make Bucky say it out loud, the little twerp, so Bucky can't help retaliating a bit.

 

"Tiny Steve said, and I'm paraphrasing here, doll, 'I'm a flaming queer and I like going out to the queer bars and bathhouses of Brooklyn lookin' to get dicked.'"

 

"That is _not_ what happened."

 

"I told you, I'm paraphrasing."

 

"And what did Bucky do then?"

 

"Well, I'd like to say that Bucky reacted like a gentleman who recognised an opportunity when he was presented with one, but, in reality, it took a few weeks."

 

"A few weeks of him _running and hiding_ whenever he saw me. Which was difficult for him, because we – I mean, _they_ – lived in the shared aforementioned tiny apartment."

 

"Well, it was a lot for him to deal with at the time."

 

"Because he was as big of a queer as tiny Steve?"

 

Bucky pinches him. "Because he was _scared_ that there was now a possibility that tiny Steve might want him, but an even bigger possibility that he wouldn't."

 

Steve pinches him back. "Was there ever going to be a universe in which I didn't want you? I've been crazy for you ever since I figured out how my dick worked."

 

"Bucky didn't know that. All he saw was tiny Steve going out and getting it from as many guys as possible."

 

"Which he _stopped doing_ once...ugh, you're telling this story, not me. Get on with it! Get to the good part."

 

Bucky licks a trail up Steve's neck, and Steve shivers. "You mean the _bad_ part," he growls in Steve's ear. "The _very very_ bad part where you corrupted an innocent man and made him a slave to your ass."

 

Steve snorts. "Whatever."

 

"So, Bucky came home from working at the docks one evening, and he decided he was going to talk to Steve, because he missed him and he wanted to tell him and he had it all planned out and it was gonna sweep tiny Steve off his feet..."

 

"...And instead tiny Steve let him get, like, five words in and then Bucky found himself with an armful of Steve and his mouth full of Steve's tongue."

 

Bucky chuckles, the memory fond and sweet. "Yeah." Steve had actually taken a running jump, more athletic than Bucky had ever seen him, and Bucky had caught him without thinking twice, and then they had been kissing, and it had been the first time Bucky had kissed a guy, and he had known right then that he never wanted to kiss anyone else. Steve had buried his hands in Bucky's hair and pulled him in close, and Bucky had _never_ been kissed like that before, like the person kissing him was starving, like Steve needed Bucky's mouth more than the oxygen in his struggling lungs.

 

He rests his forehead against Steve's and they just breathe together for a moment, sharing the same air, their lips close enough to brush. And then Steve, as he always did, as he always _does_ , makes the leap, and seals their mouths together.

 

It starts off gentle but soon turns frantic. "Love you so much, Stevie," Bucky gasps between kisses, "Love you. Missed you." He feels like he might cry, and he only belatedly notices that his face is wet.

 

" _Bucky_ ," Steve whispers, and Bucky thinks he might be crying too. They cling together, wrapped up tight in each other's grasp, just breathing, and Bucky feels like the world could be burning around him, spinning into destruction, and he wouldn't care if he could only hold Steve for a little longer. He’s never going to try to leave him again; if seventy years and HYDRA and everything that came after couldn’t keep them apart, he’s damn well not going to let his own stupidity get in the way.

 

They have to break apart eventually, if only so that Bucky can discreetly rub at his eyes and sniff without inhaling Steve. They’ve seen each other cry before – that’s unavoidable when someone is as much a part of you as he and Steve are of each other – but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. Steve, fortunately, is similarly occupied, which means they can both politely ignore each other for a moment while they sort themselves out.

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says. “About…before. I guess I wasn’t as fine with it as I thought I was.”

 

“That’s ok,” Steve says. “You know I’m yours, right? There’s never been any contest.”

 

“Yeah, I know. And you’re it for me, too. Always have been. Once I could get you to notice me.”

 

“I’ve always noticed you. Just didn’t know you were available, immediately.”

 

“Well, I’m available now,” Bucky says, hardly daring to hope that it could be this simple, that they could heal the break just like this, but Steve’s eyes glitter and he leans forward to kiss Bucky full on the mouth.

 

“You’re almost too easy, Rogers.”

 

“You love it,” Steve counters, sucking and nibbling on Bucky’s lower lip. There's a wet spot at the front of Steve's shorts, Bucky finds, when he reaches down to tease the tip of his cock.

 

"You gettin' wet for me, babydoll?" Bucky murmurs.

 

"Uh-huh," Steve sighs, and pushes back into Bucky's touch with a pleased little sound. Bucky grips him through the shorts, giving his cock a few gentle squeezes, and Steve moans and wriggles.

 

"You're so hot for me," Bucky says against Steve's ear, "You're hot, right, darlin'? So beautiful, Steve, love how much you want me, love seeing how turned on you get when I touch you."

 

"Bucky, Bucky... Love it when you call me names, goddamn sweet-talking, makes me want you so bad..."

 

"S'why I do it, doll," Bucky grins, his teeth closing around the sensitive skin of Steve's ear, and he sucks, and Steve moans, and Bucky feels his cock jump in his hand.

 

" _Please_ ," Steve pants, "Please, Bucky. Want you to – _nnnnghhh_ – fuck me, _please._ "

 

"Nah," Bucky says, grinning. "There's something I want to do first."

 

He hasn't sucked Steve's dick in a long, long time, and he has to rectify this immediately, because Steve's dick is beautiful, and Steve is wonderful, and deserves everything Bucky can give him. Really a blowjob is the least of it, although he's going to take his sweet time getting there.

 

He peels Steve out of that ridiculous t-shirt he's wearing, one of about a hundred identical ones that's far too tight and leaves nothing to the imagination as far as Steve's glorious tits are concerned, and he traces all over Steve's body with his tongue. He tastes _so_ good, of salt and musk and skin, and Bucky laps it up.

 

He pays special attention to Steve's nipples, sucking hard on them, feeling them peak in turn and listening to the delicious whimpers that his lips are pulling out of Steve. He uses his teeth, gently, carefully, and Steve wriggles and whines and demands more without using words, not that Bucky needs them anyway.

 

"Ok, sweetheart, ok," he says, "I'll give you what you want." And he bends down, shoves Steve’s sweats and boxers down to his ankles, and swallows his cock.

 

Steve makes a high-pitched sound, and tries to buck up, but Bucky puts his hands on Steve's hips and holds him down, stopping him from fucking his mouth and instead subjecting him to slow, teasing suckles. He swirls his tongue around the head of Steve's dick, caressing the delicate skin, coaxing a few bitter drops of precome from the tip. The muscles of Steve’s thighs tense under his fingertips, and he gives him a squeeze to remind him to stay still, seeing as his mouth is occupied.

 

 _God_ , he loves doing this. If he had to spend the rest of his life with his mouth on Steve’s dick, he would, no questions asked. Steve’s hands are in Bucky’s hair, his fingers gently scratching at his scalp. He keeps sucking, and hums around Steve’s cock to let him know that he can come if he wants to; it’s not like he won’t get hard again straight away, _God bless Erskine and his science._ Steve seems to understand what he means, because his grip tightens in Bucky’s hair, and then he’s gasping and panting and pulsing in Bucky’s mouth. Bucky takes it all, swallowing most of it, and then stands up so that Steve can suck the taste of himself off his tongue.

 

“You’re so filthy,” Bucky tells him.

 

“ _You_ like it,” Steve points out, “so why shouldn’t I?” He plunges his tongue back into Bucky’s mouth so that they can keep sharing, and reaches down to squeeze Bucky’s dick through his pants.

 

“Are you gonna fuck me now?”

 

“Dunno. You gonna let me?”

 

Steve growls, launches his trailing clothes from his leg with an extravagant kick, and takes Bucky’s hand, dragging him into his bedroom and slamming the door behind them. He turns to face Bucky and looks from him to the door and back again, telegraphing his intentions, and Bucky grins and shoves down his pants, letting them bunch around his boots.

 

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Bucky agrees, cupping his hands under Steve’s ass, and Steve stands on tiptoes and Bucky hitches him up and then they’re against the door. Steve wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist, and Bucky shifts his hands slightly so that he can touch Steve’s asshole. When he finds that Steve is wet, there’s a moment when he thinks his metal arm must be malfunctioning, and he almost drops him.

 

“You’re slick,” Bucky hisses in surprise. “Why are you slick?”

 

“I guess I was being optimistic.”

 

“I was in my room for three days.”

 

“Ok, so I’m desperate and optimistic.”

 

“We’d just had a massive fight.”

 

“I’m desperate, optimistic, and slightly foolish?”

 

“I was going to _leave_.”

 

“Well, now you’re not.”

 

Bucky sighs, torn between exasperation and affection.

 

“Have you seriously been sitting outside my door with your ass all slicked up as a peace offering for the past three days?”

 

“Are you complaining?”

 

“Not right now,” Bucky says, glaring through narrowed eyes. “But later we’re going to have a talk about your methods of conflict resolution.”

 

“Can it be after you’ve fucked me?”

 

“Yes.” And Bucky shifts Steve in his grip, positions him carefully, and lowers him down onto his cock. He’s not going to last long like this, but it feels so good for it to be just him and Steve again, without anyone else entering into his mind. He’s never needed anybody else; he could wake up in the 31st century and as long as Steve was by his side, he’d be ok, eventually. He can feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine, spreading out like warmth all over his body, his fingertips tingling as they dig into the gorgeous muscle of Steve’s ass.

 

“Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, _sweet thing_ ,” he gasps, “Stevie, _yeah_ , so good, doll.”

 

“Come for me, Bucky, c’mon,” Steve whispers, and it’s such an unusual request from him that Bucky does, with a shaky cry muffled into Steve’s shoulder. Steve grinds his hips against him so that he can get off too, and Bucky whimpers from the overstimulation around his sensitive dick. They’re too close together for Bucky to reach Steve’s cock to help him, so he has to ride it out, and by the time Steve comes, he’s a shaking, sweating mess.

 

His legs are trembling as Steve unwraps himself from Bucky and slides down to the ground. Steve kneels at his feet and unlaces his boots, pulling them off one by one and tugging his pants off, and then leads him, naked, to the bed. Then he settles Bucky onto his chest and pulls the quilt over them, and Bucky shamelessly cuddles close to him, listening to Steve’s heartbeat, tangling their legs together. He loves fucking Steve, but he thinks he might love what comes after even more, just collapsing into a heap and being close. He snuffles his nose into Steve’s armpit and breathes in the scent of him, and Steve laughs.

 

“Tickles, you jerk.”

 

“Sorry.” Except he’s not.

 

“Is that even nice?”

 

“’Course it is. You always smell amazing after we’ve been fucking. Like you and me all mixed together.”

 

“Sap,” Steve says, ruffling Bucky’s hair fondly.

 

“You know it.” Bucky stretches, feeling a pleasant ache in his muscles. “Hey, Steve?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m glad you’ve got friends around you,” he says. “People who care about you.”

 

“They’re good people, Bucky. All of them.”

 

“I know.” And he does.

 

“They’ll care about you to, if you’ll let ‘em. Come out of your shell a bit.”

 

“I’ll try. Probably won’t use the Steve Rogers method of getting acquainted, though. Think I’ll stick to small talk and time.”

 

“Yeah, it doesn’t work for everyone,” Steve admits, grinning. “You sure it won’t be weird?”

 

“What, knowing exactly how you were nailed by pretty much everyone who lives here?”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“Don’t worry, pal,” Bucky says, “In terms of stories, I think we’ve got them beat.”


End file.
